


A Rough Day

by Creak



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creak/pseuds/Creak
Summary: Barely a plot. Mostly porn. Definitely NSFW. To celebrate the two year anniversary of Eternity. This is the relationship they were meant to have.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	A Rough Day

Bernie has had a rough day. Serena can tell the minute she walks in. Maybe even before. The slam of the car door. The key in the lock. The lack of a greeting.

There is silence as Bernie hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and toes off her boots. Serena knows she will come into the kitchen next, knows even bad-day-Bernie will be lured by the aroma of the casserole she’s been simmering. And, true to form, Bernie appears in the door way.

“Dinner ? I made a casserole….”

Bernie nods and smiles. But she is trying too hard.

Bernie sits at the table. Her long fingers stretch and thread through each other restlessly.

“Thanks,” is all she manages. Her eyes catch Serena’s and pause for a moment, before turning away.

“Wine ?”

"No, thanks."

Serena places the plate of food before Bernie. It is hot, the steam from it is visible even in the air of the warm kitchen, the colours deep winter browns.

Bernie eats. But though the food is good, even Bernie’s appetite fails her.

“Sorry,” she proffers, as she lays her knife and fork across the half eaten plate.

“Don’t worry, it’ll keep,” and Serena nods to the large pot still sitting on the hob. She wants to ask Bernie, to tell her she understands, that it’s ok. Bernie smiles again, weakly, as if to acknowledge Serena’s unspoken concern.

“Do you mind….if I go outside…for a smoke….?”

Serena shakes her head softly.

“Of course not.”

*******************

Serena watches from the window as Bernie drags on the cigarette. The wisps of smoke curling up into the cool night sky. She can almost feel the tension Bernie is carrying in her shoulders. She steps out beside her, her arms wrapped across her chest, clasping the kitchen heat close to her. She stands silently beside Bernie. Minutes pass.

“Do you want to talk about it ? “

Bernie shakes her head. Silence.

The cigarette is down to the filter. Bernie drops it onto the decking and scrunches the stub underfoot. Serena thinks about reproaching her, she detests fag ends, but decides to say nothing.

It’s getting colder. Serena is getting colder. She’s clearly not helping.

“I think maybe I’ll go back inside.”

She turns to go but then hears Bernie.

“Serena ?”

She turns to look at her.

It is a plea.

“I …..”

And then Serena knows exactly what to do.

“I’ll be upstairs when you are ready to come in.”

And Bernie knows that Serena knows. She takes a breath. Closes her eyes briefly, smiles hesitantly, gratefully at Serena as she turns and withdraws, before again gazing into the black night garden.

******************

When Bernie comes upstairs she finds the bedroom is softly lit, by a single table lamp. Serena is sat in the armchair by it, her silk nightgown loosely tied around her. She has been waiting.

“I think you should get out of those cold clothes, don’t you ?” She arches her brow, before issuing her command, “Strip, Berenice….if you would be so kind,” she adds firmly. An order. Not a request.

Bernie breathes a sigh of relief. The authoritative tone Serena is using begins the unknotting of her tension. She starts on the buttons of her shirt. Their eyes fix on each other, as slowly one by one they fall away and she shucks if off. Then her jeans, stepping out of them with a well practised ease. Until she is standing naked but for her underwear.

“Continue.”

Bernie reaches her arms behind to undo the clasp of her bra. As she does so she notices Serena’s gown is open. She drinks in the black boned corset that Serena has donned, the swell of her breasts now clearly rising and falling as she watches Bernie undress, her throat growing dry, her cunt the opposite. She reaches to remove her pants.

“No. Keep those on.”

Obediently she leaves them and stands up.

Serena rakes her eyes up and down Bernie approvingly.

“Now, on the bed. Please. Prop yourself up against the pillows. So that I can see you. And so that you can see me.”

Bernie obliges.

“Now, remain still. Very still. For the time being. And Bernie…..part your legs, please. That’s it. A little wider…..thank you.”

Without leaving the chair Serena has now slipped her gown from her shoulders and it lays peeled open across the chair around her like the unfolded petals of an exotic flower. Bernie now sees Serena’s stockinged legs, and the soft thatch of her naked crotch. A small gasp of appreciation escapes.

“Hush,” Serena tuts, “Did I say you could make a sound ?”

Bernie can feel herself becoming wetter. She knows it will be obvious through the pale grey cotton of her functional knickers. She squirms awkwardly.

“What did I say Berenice ? Still. Perfectly still please.”

And Bernie watches as Serena brings her fingers to the apex of her own thighs, parts her own legs and starts to stroke.

Bernie’s fingernails bite into the flesh of her fisted palms as she tries to remain still and silent. She feels her nipples tighten and grow taut. She watches as Serena slides and circles, and bites at her lip. Her mind is oblivious to anything else now. She doesn’t care. She squeezes her thighs and presses down into the mattress, before sliding her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“I’m very disappointed in you. What did I just say ?” Serena stops what she is doing. She licks the length of her fingers. Bernie bites down on her own lip as she stifles another moan. “I fear you can’t be trusted.”

And slowly Serena rises from the chair and walks towards the bed. There on the bedside table are a blindfold and two sets of faux fur lined leather buckled hand cuffs that she placed there for convenience earlier. She lays them out on the bed for Bernie to see. Checking that this is okay….Bernie’s breath hitches, then a small almost imperceptible nod.

Serena mounts the bed and straddles Bernie. She takes Bernie’s right arm, places the cuff around her wrist and tightens the buckles. Then she fixes the other part of the cuff to the cast iron of the bedstead head rails. As she leans forward the thick scent of her sex floods through Bernie’s nostrils. She feels dizzy with excitement, as Serena repeats the exercise with her left arm. But before she can fully appreciate the tantalising view of Serena’s swollen cleavage as it looms above her, Serena is fixing the blindfold and she is plunged into sightlessness.

She is desperate now for Serena’s touch. She holds her breath and waits. But then feels Serena move away, and off the bed. Silence.

Her ears strain. Acute, deprived of sight and touch, she hears it. The gentle hum. For her ? Her hips rise in want towards it. But there is nothing there.

She hears Serena tut tut.

“Greedy girl. It’s not for you.”

Then she hears Serena moan. Behind her blindfold she imagines the scene. The vibrator tracing the lines of Serena’s core. The small gasp as she dips it inside her, before pulling it out and moving it up and down, firmer now. Bernie’s mouth is dry, she can hear herself panting. Her hips undulate in desperation for touch.

“So good,” she hears, “feels so good.” She listens to the squelch as Serena fucks herself. She is ridiculously wet.

And then the humming stops.

“You want me Bernie, don’t you ?”

Hoarse now, Bernie can only croak her reply. She feels the mattress sink as Serena mounts the bed. The strong pungent smell of Serena’s arousal overwhelms her as Serena sinks herself onto Bernie’s mouth, and grinds against it. Greedily Bernie complies, lapping and sucking, fucking Serena with her tongue and her nose, her face coated, devouring her. Serena bucks faster against her, and crests her wave with a loud “Fuck!” as she comes, her breath fast.

Bernie is overwhelmed by a feeling of abandonment as Serena, now stilled, lifts herself away and off the bed. She aches for some touch. But there is nothing. She can hear Serena moving around the room.

“Please,” she whimpers, “I need….”

At first there is no reply. She moans. It aches so bad.

“Serena…..?”

“All in good time.”

She rubs her thighs together, desperate for some friction, but it is not enough. Nowhere near enough. Then her legs are forced apart. Denied even that meagre relief.

“Oh Bernie. You are so wet. These are ruined !” And with that she feels Serena drag her finger up the crotch of her pants. She hopes, for a moment, but the touch is gone and she feels them being dragged down across her hips and away. Maybe now ? But no, nothing but the cool of the air against her want.

She is begging now, “Serena. Please.”

A mouth, hot and open, descends on a nipple. She pants as it is sucked hard, sending small electric jolts through her. Not. Enough. The mouth leaves, a pop as the nipple is deserted.

“No…”

Everything aches. She twists and squirms. Desperate. Then feels the mouth descend on her other breast. She rises to expected warmth but instead a shock of cold. An ice cube, slowly melting, swirls around the nipple.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps.

She feels her want dripping down her thighs. She no longer cares how desperate she looks. She just wants to feel Serena, to feel her touch where she needs it most. She is babbling now, “please, please…”

The mouth leaves her, the dissolving ice cube trickling down the side of her breast in imitation of her cunt.

“What shall I do with you, Berenice ?”

She thinks maybe she will just come at that sound of that voice. Low. Wicked. She just wants to come. Wants, craves, release. She tugs pathetically at her wrist restraints.

“Hush now.”

She feels her legs being spread once more. And touch. Light. But glorious nonetheless. The feather like graze of Serena’s hair, soft, as it brushes against her thighs. She holds her breath in hope and anticipation. And there it is, the warmth of a mouth against her. A tongue that both salves and teases. It drags up and down. It laves. It circles. She knows she is swollen. She needs more.

“Serena….”

“I’ve got you.”

And she has. Two fingers press at her entrance and then dip inside. Bernie arches her hips to greet them. Slowly they move in and out, curling to reach her sweet spot.

She groans.

“More ?”

A strangled breath of acquiescence and a third is added. Faster now, in tandem, the fingers and the tongue assault her. She climbs impossibly higher. She can feel her stomach coiling, her toes curling. She tugs helplessly at the restraints. Gasping now. Beyond caring about anything except her release.

“Come for me Bernie.”

Fireworks explode behind her blindfold as everything contracts. Her body convulses. Warm liquid shoots from deep within her. She heaves, breathless, her heart pounding so strongly that, if she didn’t know better, she’d fear it would burst free of her ribcage.

Serena’s lays her head across her chest listening to the thump of her heartbeat as it gradually returns to its normal rhythm, her fingers still buried in Bernie. As Bernie’s breath stills, she withdraws them slowly.

Serena places a kiss against Bernie’s stomach, and crawls up beside her. She removes the blindfold and reaches to release the buckles of the cuffs, gently kissing the inside of each wrist as it is freed. Bernie’s eyes remain shut against what feels like bright light after so long behind the blindfold. Serena gently sweeps back the damp hair from Bernie’s forehead. The sweat that coated Bernie’s entire body now cools against the air.

There is a sob. Then more. And tears flow from Bernie. Hot and wretched. Serena cradles her.

“Hush. It’s okay.”

The sobs and tears come faster now. Serena rocks her gently, holding her close.

And finally, “I couldn’t save her. She was no older than Charlotte. She just bled out on the table…”

It will get easier now. Bernie will talk and Serena will listen. She will reassure. She will understand. She did what she could. Sometimes you just can’t. And eventually Bernie will sleep. And in the morning they will shower and dress, and go into work, and try all over again, hoping for a better day.


End file.
